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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328868">SOVEREIGN</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottled_System/pseuds/Mottled_System'>Mottled_System</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Trifecta [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Torture, Dubious Science, Far Future, Future, Kidnapping, Lesbians in Space, Mad Science, Mad Scientists, Medical Torture, Outer Space, POV Second Person, Past Torture, Psychological Torture, Science Experiments, Science Fiction, Science Fiction &amp; Fantasy, Space Battles, Space Pirates, Torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:29:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,729</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottled_System/pseuds/Mottled_System</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You are Sovie, a debatably human survivor of planet Earth who has been inducted into the seemingly honorable organization dedicated to saving the world from the planets that threaten to destroy it.<br/>However- little do you realize- you are just the final survivor of a planet-wide massacre indoctrinated into a science-fiction cult guilty of the exact thing it claims to protect the universe from. This is the story of you overcoming the indoctrination they tortured into you, the story of you overcoming all of the plentiful trauma you have been through, and hopefully saving the universe along the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jienne/Klodde, Sovie/Vohr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Trifecta [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Beginning Of The End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You stare out at the desolate planet before you, the ground like crushed, baked flour; seemingly solid, flaking off on top, but with each step you unsettle it further and send a harsh cloud of dust into the air. The flora is hard and brittle and dry. If there are animals, or anything resembling humans, they have left no sign. You had scoured the planet searching for life and found nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hear heavy footfalls as Vohr approaches, his suit at least twice as heavy as yours because, well, he’s more than two of you. He isn’t double your height- he’s just under seven feet tall, and you stand at a respectable five nine- but he is at least twice as wide as you are. Not to mention, of course, that he weighed quite a bit more than you with or without your suits. The dust stirs around him, obscuring the sight of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, asshole,” you say, looking out at the pale yellow sky. “Time to tell me why we’re here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He comes to a stop beside you, looking out with his intense, wicked eyes. He looks almost hellish with his solid yellow eyes, his blood red, goatlike pupils, his dull turquoise skin and his neon yellow markings. He glances absentmindedly over at you; he always seems to know when you’re looking at him. “This is my home planet. This is where I was born.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You study him further. He doesn’t blend in with the yellows and golds and siennas of this planet. Then, you look back out at the horizon. “I thought you would have been born on earth,” you say. His father was- whatever his species was called- but his mother had been human.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was why he wasn’t eight feet tall. Why he didn’t have giant, bat-like wings, or horns. It was why his face, if foreign and strange, resembled a human man. He had been hated by his people for that; he was a rarity, a miracle. No one had thought his race would be compatible enough with humans to reproduce together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said. “My father took her here when he discovered she was pregnant to discover how she was pregnant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounded innocent enough when he said it like that, like he was implying a few curious scientists and doctors had examined her- of course, you knew better. Vohr was never very open about his family, his past, but he did not hide or sugar coat any of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had studied her like a rat in a lab, performing horrible, immoral, terrifying experiments on her that could have- should have- killed both her and Vohr.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what did they come up with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vohr shrugs noncommittally. “Despite our visual differences, we have similar enough DNA to reproduce. To my knowledge, there’s nothing surprising about my conception to make me an exception. It was a waste of time and energy to even look into it, if you ask me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How reassuring to know his mother’s suffering was for nothing. “I see,” you say, staying neutral. He had a tendency to shame you for, God forbid, showing emotion. “And yet, there weren’t any other hybrid offspring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vohr laughs. “My race has never been fond of humans. You’re all- small, and weak. We pride strength, grit.” He eyed the wasteland before him. “We had to, to survive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just as human as you are Khierr.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vohr looks down at you impassively. “In blood only, my xshlyn,”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Xshlyn</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was a word that expressed fondness, comradery- in fact, ‘comrade’ was probably it’s closest translation according to Vohr. Jienne, the only other member of his species left- had said it was closer to japanese honorifics like -bo or -chan; it was a word that showed endearment, but for someone small or young, like a sibling or a cousin or a </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘submissive lover’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in her words. He had called you it almost exclusively since he had met you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are we here, Vohr? I did not take you for a nostalgic man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vohr laughs heartily. “Nostalgic? No. I have nothing to yearn for, not from my past.” He begins to walk forward, motioning for you to follow. “We are here only to gather files on my people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vohr glances over at you for a moment. “Jienne is pregnant- a rarity for our people, considering how long we live. Neither I nor Jienne have ever known a pregnant Khierr.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>pregnant</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” You say, surprised, imagining her in your mind. She was eight feet tall, her shoulders three feet wide, and seemingly entirely disinterested in the mere concept of interacting with a man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. A Tiph woman, I heard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A woman?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A- I have forgotten the word. But, yes, a woman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You blink for a moment before it strikes you- “A trans woman? Transgender, transsexual?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes,” he says. “That.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, good for them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leads you to a large, gnarled tree not far away, bent and twisted and covered in knots, and crouches beside it. One by one, he pulls up a few roots, showcasing his inhuman strength. Dust forms a large, comical cloud around the two of you, and you find yourself ever grateful for your helmet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, that should be wide enough for me,” he mutters. “Come on, xshlyn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t see,” you say, outstretching a hand; a moment later, he grabs your wrist, chuckling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had forgotten. Your eyes are not evolved nor adapted for Khierra.” He leads you forward with a rare gentleness, finding yourself awkwardly clambering down a slope too steep to properly walk down. For balance, you grab Vohr’s arm as you move; he is naturally much more accustomed to traversing this terrain. He keeps his hand on your back, steadying you whenever you threaten to tilt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, the cave-like clay that makes up the walls of this jagged tunnel fades way to chiseled stone. Vohr slips ahead of you to lead you through the city carved into the ground; not only does he, presumably, know where he is going, but the night vision tech of your helmet can only do so much against the oppressing and monotone caverns you walk through. You are loath to lose contact with his arm at any moment should you get lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seems amused by the way you stumble and curse, being uncharacteristically clumsy in this strange, unfamiliar world. “Should I carry you, xshlyn? We would arrive faster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try it and I’ll break your arm,” you grumble, and he laughs heartily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, he leads you into a structure that resembles a building, still carved out of the metal of the earth itself. It resembles a doctor’s office or a lab; he leads you past a lobby, through hallways, to a room with old, abandoned computers entirely without power. He moves towards one. “Can you see well enough to harvest the CPU?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You blink, glancing at the computer closest to you. “Maybe.” You carefully open it up, studying the inside, frowning. “If I knew more about these computers, probably, but I don’t want to compromise any data.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well. It’ll take twice as long, but I will do them all, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scowl at his back despite the lack of malice or taunting in his voice. “You do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watch him work as well as you can; he seems entirely unhindered by the darkness, as he always does, moving from computer to computer. He is calm and focused, working fast. “It has been a very long time since I have seen our technology, unaccompanied by everyone else’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” you say. “I can’t imagine how hard it would be to adjust to earth’s tech.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vohr smirks, eyes still locked on the computer he’s working on. “It certainly would not help that earth’s technology is not good enough to feature very heavily in ours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Earth’s technology</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” you begin passionately, but you’re interrupted by his laughter. Scowling, you silence. You’re certain he only says things like that to get a rise out of him; you wish you could realise that before beginning to rebuke him at all. “You are the bane of my existence,” you mutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, a true honor, xshlyn!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You roll your eyes. The two of you do not speak until he finally makes his way to the computer you sit in front of, leaning over you when you don’t move from the chair in front of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many years has it been now? Since you joined?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Years are relative, xshlyn,” he muttered. You roll your eyes. “It has been- a long time. My mother was born in- what was it?- 1829, I believe, and she fell pregnant when she was twenty. I lived here for seven of our years- I believe that translates to about two dozen of Earth’s. There is little point in tracking years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“1829,” you muse. “It was 2137 when-” you falter and shudder. Vohr pauses to look over at you with that look in his- partially sympathetic, partially worried. You look away. “I was fourteen when it happened. I must be at least twenty by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does not matter, Sovereign,” he says gently, returning to the computer. “I hope you do not talk like this- so wistfully- with others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” you say. “Will you report me for it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Certainly not,” he says, a little too quickly, as if he’s slighted that you asked. “But you should stop. None of that matters anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You are silent for a few moments, watching Vohr’s expert hands move. Sometimes, they were too large to be precise, but here- on Khierra, with Khierran tech- his hands almost seemed small. “How was this missed, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vohr shrugs. “Khierra was handled long ago. We have grown exponentially since then- the amount of information we can handle has grown exponentially. We ought to return to all of our past planets to integrate all of their neglected information into our systems.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” you say. “I hadn’t realised we had disregarded so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know. Much of it is largely the same- physics, mathematics, chemistry, and such. With such advanced civilizations, there are few gaps left to be filled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” you say. “That’s why we do what we do, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vohr lights up, excited, proud. “Precisely, my xshlyn! Time and time again, people have proven themselves untrustworthy in regards to knowledge, to science, to the universe. That is why we protect the universe from these- rogue, overly ambitious, arrogant, too-powerful planets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You already know this. Planets fumble their way into technological wonders, play God, do unholy experiments and desecrate their peoples, their worlds, their galaxy, and they try to spread and consume the universe. And you- your organization- stop them. You protect the universe. You watch planets, cultures, civilizations prosper and grow until they are big enough to be a threat to everyone else, and you harvest them. You find their brightest, strongest, kindest minds- no more than a dozen per species, but always at least one- and you do away with the rest. You cultivate their knowledge and their cultures and you honor them, remember them, but you shield the rest of the universe from their folly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had seemed harsh before you learned the context- beyond harsh- you had called it genocide. Maybe it was, technically, but that thought always made you uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If you, your people, had not done what you’d done, had not created itself thousands of years ago, the universe and all life within would have been snuffed out long, long ago. If a plant is dying, you snip the dead leaves and let the healthy ones regrow- you do not sacrifice the plant just for the dead leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe in what we do,” you say quietly. “Or I would not help do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vohr finally plucks out the part he needs and turns towards you, crouching, his eyes looking into yours with a solemn expression on his strange face. “I know you do, Sovie,” he says. “And I know you would not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look away, brow furrowing, as an often revisited memory surfaces in your mind. “I think about that day a lot,” you breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He inhales slowly, deeply. “The first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” The first, the final, the worst, the best. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Perspective</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what do you think of it?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The End Of The Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You had lain in bed for several hours after you’d awoken, staring at the chrome ceiling and your distorted reflection. You only had two hours now before Father would return from work, only had two hours to be alone. You knew you ought to get up and enjoy those two hours, but your limbs seemed unwilling to move. You swore your phone had beeped and buzzed more than a hundred times since you’d awoken, but you hadn’t cared enough to check it even once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You could be playing video games, or painting, or reading. You could be calling a friend; you could be playing an artsy, wordy, multiplayer video game with a friend. And instead, you were laying there, mind wandering and settling on nothing, often spacing out for minutes at a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t until you hear a loud, thudding </span>
  <em>
    <span>boom</span>
  </em>
  <span> from outside of your house that you sat up, frowning at your dark, reflective window. “Assistant,” you say aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Sovie?” says the gentle, synthetic voice that controlled the tech in your home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show me the outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Sovie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The windows drained slowly of their tint, showing a seemingly unchanged street beyond it. The steel roads were empty and the artifol- artificial foliage- of your neighbors’ yards were ever the same. In fact, as you leaned forward and searched, you saw absolutely no one at all, an oddity for three in the afternoon. “Is there anything concerning in the news?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a momentary silence as the assistant searched the internet. “Yes, Sovie. I have found-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, however, she silenced and all of the lights turned off. You jumped as it happened- that had never happened before- and moved forward, frowning at the undisturbed receivers sitting unassumingly at the end of the block. “Assistant?” You tried again, knowing full well that it would not work. With a huff, you hurried over to your phone, but without the internet it would not load anything, not even the notifications for the messages sent to you </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> the power had gone out. “Wonderful,” you grumbled. You walked out of your room and hurried down the steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, you heard several more </span>
  <em>
    <span>booms</span>
  </em>
  <span> in quick succession- one, two, three, four, five, six-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Seven</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A great sound echoed through your house, bouncing off of your metal walls and nearly deafening you. You stumbled the rest of the way down the staircase, clutching your now aching head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that was hardly your most pressing worry, you realized, as you glanced up to see all six of your neighbors’ houses ablaze. The artifol is sizzling, the windows shattered, the blaze inside. But it didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> look like fire, just resembles it. It looked- unholy, unreal, unbelievable. As you watched it for a moment, it didn’t seem to really behave like fire, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, nearly a minute after you’d seen it, your brain processed the sight in front of you on a whole new level.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My neighbors houses are burning</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The wooden rocking chair on Ella’s porch looked half melted beneath the hellish fire cast upon it, the fallen bits half burning, half melting. The sports-themed flags above Senor Morenos’ den’s window have been incinerated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stumbled back as horror and a hitherto unknown </span>
  <em>
    <span>terror</span>
  </em>
  <span> flooded over you. “Oh, God,” you whispered. Your eyes finally settled upon thirteen figures making their way down the street; four of them broke off, two of them towards the Romanos’ house and two of them towards Jun’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dropped down to a crouch, peering out at them, but they were not firemen nor officers nor soldiers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They looked like demons wearing strange gimp suits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before you could really take in their appearances, you turned and ran, in a crouch, through the entryway and into the hallway. You slunk behind the fountain in the center of the room, running over the tiles as quickly as you could, trying to remember how to find the keycard to access the basement- </span>
  <em>
    <span>let’s go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Limestone, eclogite, trachyte, slate, gabbro, obsidian. You identified each of them in a row like letters in a word search; limestone, eclogite, trachyte, and slate on top, gabbro and obsidian beneath. You carefully removed the obsidian rock and sighed in relief to see the keycard, grabbing it. As soon as you’ve slipped the rock back into place- </span>
  <em>
    <span>a total waste of time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you realized only after you’d finished- the door was slammed open, a loud snap signifying whoever it was had broken the lock, a feat that had ought to have been impossible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had a decision to make- </span>
  <em>
    <span>fast</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Slip into the closet to wait for them to pass, or travel ahead, either through the living room or the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dismissed hiding quickly, knowing you did not want to get trapped here and wait to find out what travesty awaited your own house. Hoping whoever it was started with the living room rather than the kitchen- it seemed to be the more logical place to check first while searching for </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>- you scurried into the kitchen and behind the island, stopping and leaning out to look, to make sure it was safe. If whoever it was was standing in the entryway, they would likely see you run from the island to the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several slow, heavy footsteps fell. There was a pause. Then, a deep and unfamiliar voice spoke in a language you did not understand- then, it sounded like whoever it was cleared their throat. “I know you are here, Sovereign,” said the voice. It had a strange, unfamiliar accent, its words rolling into one another, almost like slurred speech. Two more footfalls. “I am not here to hurt you, and I will not leave without you.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>herCHYEW, ewCHYEW</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another pause before they- he? They sounded like a he- moved into the living room. You scurried as silently as you could into the hallway, hurrying into the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if he heard you- and, you know now, Vohr </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> hear you, what with his inhuman senses- the door connecting the hallway and living room opened. You locked the bathroom door and heaved the heavy toilet lid in front of it, wedging it in between the door and vanity. The only way that door was getting opened was if someone was strong enough to shatter thick porcelain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sovereign-” said the voice as the door knob twisted. You scurried into the hallway, passing the laundry room to fly into your father’s workshop, on your feet now that you were confident that he could not get to you. You flew to the hatch and inserted the keycard; the door consumed and shredded it, the light glowing green. You heard what must have been the man getting closer- </span>
  <em>
    <span>impossibly</span>
  </em>
  <span>- and you heaved the impossibly heavy door open before sliding down the ladder. You heard the workshop door open once more and the man seemingly curse in a foreign language before the hatch closed itself once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no getting in here, not unless your father came home and made a new copy of the keycard. You trusted there was a way out; he had assured you that, no matter the emergency, you could find refuge in this basement and that you would be safe. You faintly heard the sounds of the man struggling to open the hatch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turned around and saw a long, thin, white, </span>
  <em>
    <span>bright</span>
  </em>
  <span> hallway- it must have had backup generators unconnected to the cityline, somehow. Across from you was a white door with a large, pink, girlish </span>
  <em>
    <span>S</span>
  </em>
  <span> on in as well as what appeared to be a small viewing window. To your right, three more doors labelled </span>
  <em>
    <span>s1</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>s2</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>s3</span>
  </em>
  <span>, each with their own viewing window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, to your left, a large one-way mirror. You stepped forward and turned towards it, blinking as you took in the sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Initially you thought it’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>woman</span>
  </em>
  <span> strapped to a table in the largely empty, lablike room, but after a moment you realized it’s an android. Even the pleasure bots didn’t look that realistic… But there was no mistaking the telltale artificial heaving of her chest, the strange shimmer of her artificial skin beneath the luminescent lights, the unnatural gleam of her long, curly hair. She stared ahead, seemingly into your eyes, but likely at her own reflection. You felt uncharacteristically unnerved by her desolate, and yet utterly inhuman, expression; androids were often entirely sentient, feeling and expressing and feeling, seeming and being just as human as you, or entirely emotionless, and often much less visually accurate to humans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You touched the glass gently, peering around the room. A machine presumably dispensing Sustenance and removing Waste was hooked into her chest with two thick tubes, currently empty. There was nothing else in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor?” said a voice from behind you. After jumping a foot in the air and letting out a gasp, you swivelled. “Doctor, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” wept a tortured voice. “I’ll behave. I promise. Please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked forward slowly, almost incapable of bringing yourself to look inside the room from which the young woman’s voice had come- </span>
  <em>
    <span>s2</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Dafne,” said a man from </span>
  <em>
    <span>s1</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He sounded just as wretched as Dafne did, just… A lot less hopeful. It made your heart ache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You peered through the viewing window to see a naked woman laying in the corner of a small, padded cell. There was a bucket in the other far corner, overflowing with what you could only assume to be waste. Several tubes extended from several different parts of her body and led to the center of the room. She looked malnourished and possibly abused; she looked like she’d scratched her entire body, tearing off flesh in several places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt bile rise in your throat. “Ple-e-ease,” she wept, shuddering and rocking in place. “I’ll be your good girl again, I swear- I’ll do everything you say… Please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hand went to the door knob and twisted, but it did not open; however, the lock was rudimentary, old. You tried to slam it open, to break it, but you did not seem to be able to muster your full strength.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor?” she whimpered, peering at the door with a confused expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You frantically pulled a bobby pin out of your hair and bent it open, scratching the rubber tip open with your nail. Then, you grabbed a second bobby pin and bent it in half, inserting that in and turning it in the lock. Then, you inserted the sharp edge of the first bobby pin above the second. It took you a few minutes and several bobby pins; you had never picked a lock before, and theoretical knowledge was rarely enough to succeed with things like this. Eventually, though, you opened the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dafne caught sight of you and startles, pulling herself further into the corner. You noted that she made no effort to cover herself as the scent of the bucket washed over your senses. “You- who are you? Where’s the doctor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” hissed the man who had silenced her. “Who is it? Dafne! Who is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A- girl,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sovie,” you forced out softly. “This is- my house. My… My father’s a doctor.” You felt sick. Your brain refused to know the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sovereign!” another woman screeched from the third door on this side. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> should not be here… Leave, now, while you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open my door! Open my door, please, Sovie,” begged the man. Leaving Dafne’s door open, you turned towards his, taking a few moments to unlock it. He was an older man with a long beard and long, messy hair. “Thank you,” wept the man, shaking. “You have to get us out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going anywhere!” said Dafne, shrill. “I want the doctor. Where is the doctor? Why hasn’t he come to us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said the other woman. “Sovereign- </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s too late for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up, Margot!” The man roared. “You don’t fucking know that. Sovie- please- I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll help you,” you said quietly. “I… I’ll help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These tubes in our legs- you see them? The largest ones, right next to each other?” Margot said. The man, covering his junk, turned his leg out to reveal his inner thigh, the two thick tubes leading to the center of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” you said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s poison in one and the antidote, for lack of better words, in the other. Fed directly into our arteries- blood vessels that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what arteries are,” you said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then you know there’s no way that you- how old are you, twelve?- can remove two large tubes from them without us bleeding out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do it,” I said. “With the right equipment. Just- there’s more rooms, I’ll look through them. If he put them in you, there’s gotta be the stuff to get them out. And I’m fourteen- </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> in university, majoring in Biology, minoring in anatomy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said the man, nodding. “Yes. Yes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>- thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it, Dave-” Margot said, sounding flustered. “Sovereign. Listen to me. I have been here for, if you’re fourteen, at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>twenty</span>
  </em>
  <span> years.” Her voice wavers, sounding tired and pained and angry and bitter and, above all, emphatic. “You’re not the first Sovereign to stumble down here, curious, and you- you don’t want to know what your father will do to you now that you’ve found us. Get out of here- get as far away from him- </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the first-” you started, only to let out a sigh and walk towards Margot’s cell. You picked the lock easily this time. “I didn’t stumble down here because I was curious. There- there was a terrorist attack, or something. Fire everywhere- doing things fire doesn’t do- and a man in the house, who knew my name, hunting for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence followed until you opened Margot’s door, seeing a woman at least your father’s age sitting against the wall, perched comfortably in a way hid her body from view. Tiredly, she looked over at you. “Then what’s the point?” Her voice was quiet and almost broken. “We’re all going to die down here, alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>up</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Margot!” Dave screamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Margot made a bitter face and looked at the wall across from her. “Fine. Bleed out in your padded cell. I don’t care anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather fucking die than be trapped here anymore!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish you had no mouth,” Margot said softly, certainly too quietly for Dave to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked at Margot, you heard Dafne’s animalistic weeping, you heard Dave’s angry, gnarled sobs. “I have no mouth, and I must scream,” you whispered. “Harlan Ellison.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Margot looked over at you and almost smiled. “That is an old, old story,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a video game, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sovie?” Dave gasped. “Sov- Sovie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hurry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded and hurried to the last door, but there was no rudimentary lock. Instead, there was what looked like a diabetic meter on the wall. Reluctantly, you pricked your finger and let it suckle the blood up into the device. After a moment, the door swung open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t walk in right away, suspecting a trap. You used your bobby pin to carefully take the door off of its hinges; it took a very long time. Eventually, though, the door collapsed onto the floor with a great thud, making everyone else jump. “Sorry,” you said and walked in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After you had, a motion sensor above the door turned red and the hinges swung uselessly closed. You felt yourself, despite everything- the implications that held, the sights you had seen, the situation you were in- get a proud grin. The room had a bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a desk, all connected to the floor and walls. It was all padded, not a harsh corner to be found. There was a cubby hole with a functioning bathroom visible to the viewing hole. There was a door leading to the left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, most horrifyingly of all, there was a half-decayed body laying on the bed. A horrifying smell overwhelmed you and coughed; a few moments later, Margot reacted, and then Dafne, and then Dave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is that?” Dave said, sounding near hysterics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The last Sovereign,” Margot said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked forward slowly, looking at her. She couldn’t be older than eight or nine. Her hair, largely in chunks connected to half-decomposed bits of skin hanging off of her scalp, was curly and brown, just like yours. Now, after so long, there were no other visual indicators of who she could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, God,” you whispered. You could almost taste the foul smell, so you backed off, shuddering. You opened the surprisingly unlocked next door and removed it from the hinges; when you walked through, this time the motion sensor above the door turned red and began to blink. Dismayed, you turned to see a much smaller room that had only a desk, a chair, and a computer. You sat down, hoping for the best, turned it on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>W E L C O M E</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It said in large letters. Beneath it, two options- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daniil</span>
  </em>
  <span> or </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sovereign</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Almost afraid, you clicked on your name. After it loaded, there were five folders on the desktop- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Matriarch</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sovereign I</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sovereign II</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sovereign III</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sovereign IV</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You double clicked on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Matriarch</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have done it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How many failures did I encounter- how many last minute flaws, errors? Too many. It pains me to read my past notes, to be aware of what an ignorant fool I was coming into this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, nevermind. That is all irrelevant now, all behind me. As useless as those </span>
  <span>blasphemous bastards</span>
  <span> I made with those </span>
  <span>stupid whores</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I have a functioning model of the Matriarch- an android more beautiful, more lifelike, more sentient, and better made than any other android or any human at all. The Matriarch comes with soft, realistic skin complete with small, humanlike hairs. Her hair is made out of delicately woven plastic. Her eyes are perhaps my best work. Her </span>
  <span>cunt is like fucking a velveteen heaven</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, of course, she is made for growing and sustaining life, right in her stomach where a human’s womb would be. She produces natural milk designed to be as nutrition and delectable as can be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is fully sentient, fully conscious. I’ve successfully programmed her personality- I’m sure that particular ability would go for a lot of money, but I am unwilling to share the blueprints to my wunderkind, at least right now. She is mine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is made to be docile, gentle, a listener rather than a talker. She is delicate and feminine and beautiful and perfect- and she is mine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The embryo within her- crafted from my own DNA, of course- is seven weeks old. This is the farthest I’ve come- this is the most promising child yet, and my first female.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the way I have crafted her- brilliant! All it took was </span>
  <span>a shot of my seed</span>
  <span>, just like with a regular woman, and the technology within her body did the rest, forming a baby with an artificial egg. I will, of course, release the blueprints to artificial eggs within a handful of years, I’m sure- that, of course, will benefit many, I’m sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, of course- unlike in a human woman- the Matriarch only has the most desirable genes to pass off to her offspring. Once I have successfully cultivated the child- once she has been birthed- she will be a marvelous creation, not entirely human, not at all android, but a creation of science and will and innovation. She will be the brightest, best specimen the world- the universe- has ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I will leave this entry here; I have to update the scientific logs I keep, and shall not procrastinate by scribbling nonsense in my journal any further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 01/01/2082</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The page exhausted, you backed out to the desktop and clicked on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sovereign I</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At last!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My darling Sovereign has been born!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is a marvel, a wonder, a beauty!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks so human- and yet, she is too perfect. She did come out looking so ugly and visceral as normal babies do, birthed by human women. She is an angel, a blessing from God-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that God, of course, is me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I cannot contain myself. My sleeping babe lay in her bassinet beside me. I have scarcely left the basement, for I cannot bear to part with my darling creations; my wunderkind, my heiress. And, with the wondrous creation that is the Matriarch’s milk, I only have to leave when it is vital to for work, and not something I can accomplish remotely- which is very little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My father still has not forgiven me for forsaking the practice for less </span>
  <em>
    <span>hands on</span>
  </em>
  <span> work, but I could not be happier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sovereign is stirring. I must go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 10/23/2082</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There are minor complications. Of course, she was a wonder in her infancy, in her toddler years- impossibly smart, headstrong, independent, capable… Too independent, I fear. She is six currently, as I’ve recorded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are troubles at school. She will not listen to any teacher, any authority at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, I was just as headstrong as a child- and rightfully so. I would not consider this a failure at all, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I, regrettably, have work to attend to tonight. I must update the logs and be on my way. Dimitrius is on his way to care for Sovereign in my absence… I pray he does not spoil her. She grows temporarily unruly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 03/12/2089</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too independent. Too </span>
  <em>
    <span>independent</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too</span>
  </em>
  <span> independent.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too independent</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is nine. She argues, she throws tantrums, she cries, and she defies me. I understand that it is inevitable that children- especially girls, and motherless girls at that- will act this way occasionally. I would not consider her a failure…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If she does turn out to be, I can of course create another with the Matriarch. Perhaps, if it comes to that, I will program the Matriarch to be more- motherly. Perhaps the Matriarch will suffice to make the next child less unruly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I have nothing more to say on the matter, so I bid thee adieu.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 11/15/2091</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>October twenty-third, two thousand and eighty two, at four twenty three in the afternoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is when Sovereign was born.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>October twenty-third, two thousand and ninety three, at four twenty three in the afternoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is when, at age eleven, Sovereign- the first specimen- was disposed of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am in shock. Perhaps I am mourning. I feel despondent and sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sleep peacefully, my love. I will perfect you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shaken, you moved on to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sovereign II</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 10/23/2093</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Matriarch is with child once more- she is ten weeks in. Forgive me for not writing about it sooner; there have been several failed embryos and I did not want to get my hopes up. I am feeling much better, mourning the first iteration of Sovereign with much less vigor, and much less often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She will return to me, better than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of that I am certain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 02/14/2094</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A miscarraige.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On today of all days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fate is a fickle, fickle cunt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 10/23/2094</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Forgive me for neglecting you, old friend- but I have joyous news! My beautiful darling Sovereign has returned to me anew- and again, on today of all days. This specimen is male, but it is of no concern to me- I already know her, her soul and her light. I will raise her as the woman she would inevitably know herself to be regardless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Matriarch- now programmed to be sufficient as a carer- is ecstatic. I have confined her to this sector of the basement, of course, but it was a wondrous discovery to her- walking, moving, laying, being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is endlessly grateful to me. I have discovered the mystical wonders of her </span>
  <span>throat as well her cunt</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sovereign will remain here with her, I believe. The Matriarch will homeschool her. I’ve installed a library within this very room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in quite a while- life is well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 10/23/2095</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It is a desolate day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Sovereign was brilliant, and capable, and bright and happy and beautiful and as lovely and charming and obedient as I could have hoped. She loved me. She loved the Matriarch. She loved to learn, to read, to know and hear and wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She loved to wonder far too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I do not know how- I must install cameras- but she… She and the Matriarch managed to unlock the door to the rest of the basement, and unlock the doors to the three specimens I have, and to free them, and to open the hatch to the rest of the house…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had I not been home…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, thankfully, I was. I lost all three specimens in the struggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I could have, likely, neutralized Sovereign. I could have comforted her. She could have loved me again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But I was not thinking. I grabbed a kitchen knife and I slashed her with it, over and over and over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she fell. And she bled. And she cried. And she died.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My darling daughter- a truly perfect girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruined. Wasted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of all things-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My daughter, dead. The daughter of the man who </span>
  <em>
    <span>cured</span>
  </em>
  <span> death, who opened the door to immortality for the entire world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fate is fickle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Matriarch is, of course, returned to the basement- but not to her blissful ignorance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She does not deserve that. She stole my sweet daughter from me and she will pay, </span>
  <span>pay the same way those vile whores pay</span>
  <span>; she will live, and breathe, and think, and suffer, eternally. I would slay her if I did not need her; she deserves to suffer, but I do not deserve to have to see to the care of </span>
  <span>that useless whore</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am angry and bitter and mourning once more, but it is so much stronger. SI had been impressive, yes, but SII- she was my daughter, and I love her, and I adore her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I must go. I ache.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You stared at the screen for several long, unwavering moments- until a howling sob from Dafne stirred you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no time to react. You exited to the desktop and found </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sovereign III</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 04/08/2113</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After all of the failed embryos and miscarried fetuses, SIII has at last been born. Her face was a sight for sore eyes; she is the sight of the homeland to a lonely seaman. I have installed cameras throughout the house and there are monitors in the Matriarch’s room; she will watch the daughter she cannot hold grow and thrive, never to hold her in her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is time to feed Sovereign.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 10/23/2114</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She is as brilliant as either of her predecessors, but as curious as them, as well. She made her way to the basement and into this sector. She was waiting here for me when I returned home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poor, little thing- she was frightened by the specimens and the Matriarch. She cried on the bed until I found her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, I cannot let her out and risk her telling others. Seven year olds are certainly not secret keepers… But she is old enough, independent enough, to be here when I am at work, if I lock this sector and the door to the Matriarch. I will be with her for most of every day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, and the Matriarch… She was hysterical, miserable. Sweet, delectable justice… A fair mistress. If only she had not frightened Sovereign so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of Sovereign; she grows restless. I will be off to play with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 12/21/2121</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sickness overwhelmed her. It was more violent than any I’ve ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I do not wish to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Today</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You don’t want to read </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sovereign IV</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but- of course- you do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 10/23/2122</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sovereign the Fourth is amongst the living. Her face, ever flawless, is not as angelic as her predecessors, but when I look at the photographs of her sisters, it is entirely my own fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My heart is hardened. My soul has grown calloused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I made sure her birthday is different from her sisters’. I know it is foolish, useless superstition, but if it calms my worrying mind- and it does- then it is worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She will be homeschooled, like SII, unlike SI and SIII- upstairs, motherless, like SI and SIII.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am growing old- I am sixty three. SIV will be my final child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I will ensure her success.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 07/22/2123</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have grown nostalgic in recent years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SIV- she has, regrettably, taken to the nickname ‘Sovie’, but I will not call her that. It is frivolous. However, she does not wish for me to call her Sovereign, so I will settle upon SIV- is a certified genius. It is her thirteenth birthday and she has been accepted into university after graduating much, much earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is more intelligent than her sisters. She is quiet and observant, docile, capable. She is witty and sharp. She knows more, perhaps, than I do, already, though it is, of course, all theoretical rather than observable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is, through and through, my daughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she is not a perfect specimen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is too docile, too naive. She is too sheltered. I had hoped through her wonderful schools and carefully picked experiences that I would impart in her great knowledge, hone her unparalleled skill- and I have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But at the cost of her fire, her nerve, her independence. How ironic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SIV is not the perfect creation. But she is the perfect </span>
  <em>
    <span>daughter</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and perhaps that is enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One day, I will show her all of this; I doubt she will find it herself. I have taught her a trick to find a keycard that will lead her down here, but I told her it was for emergencies only; it is doubtful she will wander out of curiosity, and there certainly will be no emergencies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am far too old to make a younger sister for her. So, I will show her this- I will teach everything to her- once she graduates from medical school. We will craft a Patriarch to assist her, and she will carry on my legacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is no doubt in my mind she will take up my mantle proudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I must go. She is debuting a wonderful innovation she has yet to tell even </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> about for the desire to surprise me, shock me. She doubtlessly will.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Daniil Argyris, 08/13/2136</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You stared at the screen a moment more before getting to your feet. There was nothing here to help you. You picked the lock to the Matriarch’s room, hoping there was something hidden behind her to help you free Margot, Dafne, and Dave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Matriarch was slow to glance at you, but when she did, she inhaled sharply, her mouth falling agape. You heard strange, garbled noise before you realized that she couldn’t speak- not anymore. You tear your eyes away from hers- her face was too similar to your own in a way you had not noticed before- and studied the mechanisms behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing, anywhere, to help free the specimens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ih ee,” ground out the Matriarch desperately. You glanced at her face in the reflection of the one-way mirror. “Ih ee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kill me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You inhaled sharply, then looked away. The words you had read- the words your father had written, in his strange and formal and familiar and beloved mannerisms- haunted you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You could not leave her here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You walked to the plug in the wall and removed it from the socket; for a moment, there was a high-pitched gurgling sound, and then, the Matriarch deflated against her constraints.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was dead. You had killed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stared at her for a long moment- too long, perhaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a loud crack echoing from far away- </span>
  <em>
    <span>the hatch</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You scurried out of the room and into the bedroom, slinking into the shower. It was not a wonderful place to hide, but there was nowhere else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You heard muttering in a foreign language from that same voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who the fuck are you? What the fuck is-”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boom</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A woman’s scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boom.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boom.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Judging by his footsteps, he was growing ever closer. You closed your eyes, sunk quietly onto your butt, and breathed slowly, calmly, through your mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were going to die, or you weren’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You would be found, our you wouldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You forced the apathy that was ever your bedfellow up to the surface and sat there, silent, breathing shallowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked past you and into the room with the computer, and likely into the Matriarch’s room, then slowly back into Sovereign’s room…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And towards you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You chose to do nothing, to sit exactly still, as he pulled the shower curtain aside and looked down at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raised both eyebrows and looked up at the demon before. He had hair that grew in between tentacles- tendrils, in truth, you would learn later. It was black and long and straight and thick. His skin was a dull, alien blue, lined with chartreuse markings. His eyes were hellish. His nose was hooked and humanlike, his build vaguely humanoid, but his gait was too wide. Here, crouched, you could not tell how tall he was, but he was impossibly wide, broad, muscular.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked down. “I don’t know. I’ve never been before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your father did this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You opened your mouth but, for a long moment, said nothing. “I… Suppose so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was silent for a long while. “Get up. You are coming with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stood and numbly followed the large monster out of Sovereign’s room. Margot, Dafne, and Dave were all dead, limp in their cells, with bullet wounds in their skulls.</span>
</p>
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